


In Plain Sight

by AVeryBlueGirl



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Mythology, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Asgardian justice isn't very just, Backstory, But it has a happy ending i promise, Character Death Fix, Child Death, Coffee Shops, F/M, Fix-It, Flashbacks, Loki Angst, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki's Kids, Loki's Lips Sewn Shut, Magic, Missing Persons, More angst than intended, Mythology - Freeform, Non-Linear Narrative, Norse Myths & Legends, Reunions, SHIELD, Starbucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:56:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVeryBlueGirl/pseuds/AVeryBlueGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki is captured after the Chitauri invasion, he learns that his supposedly-widowed wife Sigyn vanished after his fall from the Bifrost. The Avengers aren't pleased to hear that the Trickster escaped after learning of his wife's disappearance, but - fearful of what vengeance he may seek if his wife is hurt - the Avengers begin to search for the missing Norse goddess.<br/>Little do they know their friendly neighborhood Starbucks barista has a dark past of her own.</p><p>Prompt fill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Plain Sight

**Author's Note:**

> For kink meme prompt here: http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/6021.html?thread=9261189#t9261189
> 
> Prompt: "Sigyn, being a very intelligent goddess, sees the way the wind is blowing after Loki does his disappearing act off the bridge. She realizes he can't be punished, since he's (supposedly) dead, and chances are (knowing the general Asgard approach to 'justice') she'll be punished in his place.
> 
> So she slips out of Asgard through one of those hidden ways her husband taught her about, and goes into hiding on Earth. Specifically NYC... The Avengers aren't happy to learn that Loki slipped his bindings and did a disappearing act when he found out that his wife was missing.  
> So now the Avengers and Loki are racing each other to find the hiding Sigyn before she can hurt anyone/be hurt. Loki because she's his wife, and the Avengers because Thor's told them exactly how bad it would be for Earth if anything's happened to Sigyn.  
> The Avengers, SHIELD, and Loki are scouring the Earth looking for Sigyn--meanwhile, she's hiding very near SHIELD HQ...maybe she's the barista who always seems to be on shift at the closest Starbucks. Just give me Sigyn living a normal life while the Avengers and Loki go insane trying to find her."
> 
>    
> Told via present events and flashbacks.

“Have you nothing to say for yourself?”

Loki raised his eyebrow as he gazed at the Allfather—once _his_ father—, seated upon his throne before the court. “Nothing you will want to hear,” he spat, eyes wandering through the people in the throne room. His voice was rough from the forced silence before he was returned the ability to speak freely again. “I have only one query.

“Where is my wife?”

The silence that filled the immense hall sent a chill of foreboding through the trickster. Beside the Allfather, Frigga wilted slightly sadly as she looked to her sons: one by blood, one by bond.

At his left, Thor shifted uneasily. “Brother…”

“I am not your brother,” he spat lowly before, louder, demanding of the court: “I’ll only ask once more. _Where is my wife?"_

* * *

 When she had sensed her husband’s presence nearby in New York City, she had wasted no time and made haste to find him. She ended up walking straight into the invasion force of the Chitauri, who apparently did not recognize her and so attempted to attack her.

It was a lethal mistake on their part.

She was three blocks away from Stark Tower—the center of the attack—when the Chitauri dropped, dead, to the streets and the portal closed. She stilled where she stood in the street as the knowledge hit her that her husband had been captured.

Though she ached to find him, she knew there was naught she could do. She knew he would face punishment in Asgard, but it was better - safer, for him and for her - if she remained here and did not give them someone to punish Loki with. It wouldn't be the first time and nor would it be the last. His punishment...she did not want to imagine. She could only pray that it was not execution. If not, he would find her. He always found her.

For now, she would just have to wait.

She was Sigyn Freyasdottir, wife of Loki, goddess of fidelity. And she was endlessly patient.

For this, for him, she could wait.

* * *

 

The next months passed quickly for Sigyn.

New York recovered at an incredible pace, considering all the destruction that had been caused by the extraterrestrial invasion. It helped, she supposed, that Stark Industries was very publicly helping to fund the construction and reparation. In only a few months, New York was almost back to its previous self, with a few scars and memorials marring it.

Among the newly rebuilt offices and buildings was a Starbucks not a block from the Stark Tower. Considering that it was now the (fairly secret) headquarters of the Avengers (That tidbit of knowledge had come from the SHIELD database that she may or may not have hacked into covertly), Sigyn was prompt to get a barista job there. She had, in fact, been a barista before the attack on Manhattan, but the coffeehouse had been destroyed.

It wasn’t a week before she saw one of the acquaintances of the Avengers.

A redheaded woman in Prada heels came in, looking stressed and harried.

“What can I getcha?” she asked.

“One earl grey tea latte and an espresso with three extra shots,” she rattled off and offered her credit card. “Please.”

Sigyn grinned amicably as she swiped the card. “Names…ah, Ms. Potts?” she glanced at the woman’s nametag, still pinned to her blouse.

“Pepper for the latte and Tony for the espresso,” the redhead replied.

“Someone’s working late tonight, I take it,” asked Sigyn, writing the names upon the cups in elegant script. “Been a while since I’ve made anything with three extra shots.”

The customer—Pepper Potts, PA-turned-CEO—nodded in exasperation. “My boss. He’s probably going to work all night on his recent project.”

 “Well, here you go, Ms. Potts. Have a good day—and don’t let your boss work too hard,” she advised with a nostalgic smile. “I know the type—they’ll work themselves to death if you let them.”

Flashes of memories— _of pulling her husband away from his work, of waking him from where he’d fallen asleep in the archives, of coaxing him to bed when he was nearly dead on his feet with exhaustion, of convincing him to rest after the long day of Thor’s banishment and his father’s Odinsleep_ —flashed in her mind but she still smiled.

Pepper Potts smiled. “Thank you—ah, Ginny,” she glanced at the barista’s nametag. “Have a good evening!” She tucked a large bill into the tip jar, accepted the two drinks, and left.

Sigyn was left wondering when she’d see more of the Avengers and their associates.

* * *

 Their beginning started with a trick.

More precisely, it started with one of Loki’s tricks at a feast. It was one of the trickster’s favorites, conjuring up a serpent to frighten people.

He’d curled the snake between his fingers before letting it slither to the floor toward the mass of dancing and feasting nobles. Less than five minutes later yielded several shrieks of fear and shock from the dance floor as the Aesir stepped away hurriedly from the coiled reptile.

Loki grinned widely to himself at the melee.

Until a young woman stepped forward from the fearful group to stand before the serpent, which watched her with black eyes silently. She extended her hand to it with not a shred of fear in her. The serpent curled into her palm and up around her wrist.

One of the other guests hissed something at her furiously.

“It is not venomous,” she said with a faint smile as the snake curled around her shoulders obediently. “It’s not even real.”

Her left hand twitched and the serpent transformed, in a shimmer of magic, into an emerald shawl about her shoulders and arms. “Merely magic,” she said in amusement.

The party resumed. And Loki saw his brother approach the woman who had dealt with his serpent.

Reluctantly, he watched them interact, curious of her calm regard for the snake and her nimble magic. Thor’s booming guffaw was unmistakable, even from across the room, even when joined with a higher pitch, feminine laugh.

“Brother!” Thor called him over.

His momentary annoyance warred with his curiosity toward the woman. His inquisitive nature won out.

“Thor,” he greeted calmly with a nod of his head as he went to the pair of them.

The god of thunder grinned widely. “Brother, this is Lady Sigyn Freyasdottir—the one who foiled your little trick. Lady Sigyn, this is my brother Loki.”

She curtseyed. “Your highness,” she said politely with a small smile of amusement on her lips.

Loki looked to Thor. “ _My_ trick, you said? You think that serpent was my work?”

“Oh, I know it was, brother,” he laughed. “I recognize your trickery easily as the back of my hand.”

The Silvertongue looked to the woman and studied her momentarily.

She was fair enough, but most Aesir women were. The Lady Sigyn had long, light blond hair pinned atop her head in elegant curls. Her blue-grey eyes were alight with amusement and mischief. Unlike so many Asgardian women, she was slender and petite rather than voluptuous or athletic.

“Another practitioner of magic,” he mused. “Odd, I know of most sorcerers.”

The corner of her lips quirked upward. “I’m not so overt about it usually,” she replied. “But people are such fools sometimes. A mere snake, really.” Lady Sigyn laughed. “The situation called for it, I suppose. Even if some of us prefer to enjoy our magic subtly.”

He smirked. “But where’s the fun in that?”

The Lady Sigyn laughed again. “Where indeed,” she murmured wryly.

“Would you care to dance?” Loki asked, making a quick decision. Beside him, Thor regarded him in surprise.

She smiled, sincerely surprised but delighted. “Of course.”

Loki took her hand and led her away from his nearly-gaping brother. As they began to dance, he remarked, “You don’t come to these feasts often, do you, Lady Sigyn? You are unfamiliar to me.”

“I am not usually one for the court,” she admitted. “My mother recently returned to Asgard and so brought me with her to the feast tonight.”

The god of mischief raised an eyebrow. “Your mother—Freya, my brother said, yes?”

“Indeed,” she replied.

He nodded in recognition. “You’re a Vanir?”

“Half,” Lady Sigyn admitted. “My father is Iwaldi, a dwarf. I’m…not exactly Asgardian-court material, you might say.” Her smile had a near-bitter edge. “I don’t quite…fit in. Not here.”

Loki’s mouth twisted in understanding. “I can relate,” he said and squeezed her hand gently. “If it is any consolation, I think you don’t need to fit in. You’re lovely as is, my Lady.”

“And to think I wondered why they called you the Silvertongue.” Sigyn’s laugh echoed in the feast hall, light and sincere.

Thus their story began.

* * *

 It really didn’t take long at all.

Within a week, Tony Stark himself had come into the coffeeshop. “You’re Ginny, right? Good. My PA got coffee here a couple days ago—best coffee I’ve had in years. How’d you like job?”

Her eyebrows rose. “I already have one, Mr. Stark, but you have my thanks for the offer.”

“At a Starbucks? Please. What are they paying you—minimum wage? I can top that—”

She sighed. “Mr. Stark, I don’t have this job for money. I have plenty of money. This…this is to stave off boredom in my spare time,” she admitted.

The billionaire scowled. “You’re going to be stubborn about this, aren’t you? Well, in that case—get me a triple-shot espresso. And the name’s Stark, Tony Stark.” He flashed her a wide smile.

As she began working the espresso machine, she rolled her eyes. “Charmed, Mr. Stark.”

“Don’t I get your name?”

“Ginny,” she replied in annoyance. “Ginny Smith.”

She labeled his cup _Most Obnoxious Customer of the Day_ cheerfully and laughed at his look of wounded pride when he saw it.

“I’ll be back, then, Ms. Smith,” he said when he took the coffee. With a wink, he tucked a hundred-dollar bill into the tip jar.

* * *

In less than a month, the Starbucks had become the Avengers’ haunt.

Stark had dragged them there the day after he’d first stopped by and they had taken to coming—in groups, in pairs, or alone—ever since.

She was relieved that her brother-in-law was not among them anymore.

Sigyn didn’t know what she would do if he found her.

* * *

 

 “So, Ginny.”

She glanced at Tony, who was lingering by the counter even though she’d already given him his coffee. “Anything else I can get you, Mr. Stark?” she asked imperiously.

“You know, I’ve got a friend,” he began casually, “Who I want to set up on a blind date. You know him—brown hair, serious expression, dry wit—I come in with him and the others sometimes.”

The barista nodded. “Yes, I recall him.”

“Well, I wanted to set him up, like I said. I was wondering if you would—”

Sigyn sighed. “Mr. Stark, I—”

“Tony.”

Another sigh. “If you insist. But I cannot go on a date. My apologies.”

He made a face. “Why not? He not your type?”

In lieu of replying, she raised her hand to display a simple emerald and diamond gold ring on her left hand. “I’m unavailable.”

“Wait—you’re married? But I’ve never seen hi—”

She shook her head, wanting to evade his questions but knowing it was simply easier to face them head on. “You wouldn’t have.”

The billionaire stopped at her sorrowful tone. “Oh my god, is he—?” Tony stopped awkwardly.

“I don’t know,” she whispered and sighed as she met his eyes wearily. “Tony, I was married a long time ago. He’s…well, I don’t really know where. He disappeared.”

“I’m…sorry,” Tony said reluctantly. “When?”

“Three years.”

Another pause. “And you’re still waiting for him.”

She blinked at him in surprise. “Of course I am. What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t?”

* * *

 “Sigyn.”

She startled and glanced up from the tomes across the table before her. “Loki,” she greeted with a smile as she stood. The trickster kissed her hand courteously with a smile before they both sat down at the table in the immense Archives of Asgard.

“And what are we reading of, today?” he asked.

She lifted the hefty book. “Sorcery. I’m attempting to learn some new tricks.”

“Oh?” he replied. “Such as?”

“Close your eyes,” the Vanir woman told him. He did. “Now open.”

When he looked again, he found her chair empty, but he heard her laughter. “Invisibility?” Loki chuckled. She flickered back into view, grinning. “That is brilliant, Sigyn,” he said in amusement.

“How are you?” she asked curiously.

Loki shrugged. “A bit tired. Thor insisted on practicing sparring this morning.”

She nodded in understanding. “I trust you beat him?” she asked with a smile.

“Of course,” the green-eyed ás smirked.

“Did you test out that illusion trick you mentioned to me last week?” she asked fondly with a mischievous tip of her grin. “How’d that work on your brother?”

The liesmith laughed. “Oh, the oaf fell for it, of course. He did not know what to think when he was surrounded by six of me.”

“Six Lokis?” Sigyn pondered with a smile. “How terrifying.”

“Terrifying?” he repeated with a raised eyebrow.

She grinned. “For Prince Thor, I imagine. Amusing for me.”

With a chuckle of his own, Loki gave a small smile. But it made Sigyn pause to examine his expression intently. “What is the matter?” she asked in concern.

Loki did not reply for a moment before he regarded her with a serious expression. “Is it true? What they’re saying?”

Her grey-blue eyes focused on him in confusion. “What?”

“That your mother is going to arrange for a marriage contract between you and Theoric.”

She paled, shoulders slumping slightly as her gaze dropped to the table.

“ _Why?_ ” he demanded, grateful that they were alone in the Archives. “Why that absolute fool? You deserve someone far more intelligent and on your level than that bumbling idiot. And I thought—I thought—”

Sigyn’s eyes softened regretfully as she looked to the young prince. “She claims it is past time that I marry. My mother would have insisted years ago except—” The Vanir woman stumbled to a halt. To his prompting glance, she eventually admitted, “You.”

“Me?”

“I—she thought—well…it doesn’t matter what she thought.” Her face felt like it was aflame with embarrassment. “Not anymore.”

The anger drained from his face as he reached over to tilt her chin up so she would meet his eyes. “Sigyn.”

“Loki,” she countered and then sighed. “She waited these past years since we met and became close because she was waiting for you to make an offer.”

The prince froze where he sat and she pulled her chin away from his shocked grasp.

“I never…I didn’t…”

She shook her head. “I know, Loki. But I never told her that because I had no wish to be married off.”

Loki stared at her before shaking his head sharply. “No. I never…I never thought you would be…interested. In that—in… _me_.”

“Are you daft, Loki?” she exclaimed, but her face softened. “I’m be mad if I wasn’t.” She paused and her eyes wandered to meet his confused gaze. Awe dawned on her face. “You—you are, then? A-attracted to me?”

“Of course, don’t be stupid,” he chastised. “I simply never thought you’d be interested in me, in dealing with all the trouble that comes with marrying the lesser prince of Asgard, in joining the court…”

“On its own, no, I would loathe it,” she replied, grasping his hand. “But for you, it would be worth it a thousand times over. I never expected you to…well. You’re a prince of Asgard, one of the most powerful sorcerers in the realm already, a god. I am only a half-Vanir woman, a daughter of Freya, moderately skilled in magic. Nothing special.”

He cradled her cheek lovingly. “Say nothing of the sort, Sigyn,” he murmured to her and straightened. “Meet me outside the mead hall before the feast.”

As Loki stood to leave, she asked, bewildered, “Where are you going?”

The god of mischief smiled to her. “I’m going to fix this.”

* * *

 

He found his father and mother in the throne room, unoccupied at the moment. Thor had passed him in the halls and joined him, curious of Loki’s determined attitude.

“What is it, my sons?” the Allfather asked curiously as the princes bowed upon entering.

The trickster squared his shoulders and met his father’s eye. “I wish to marry Sigyn Freyasdottir.”

Silence followed, filling the vast room. Odin studied his youngest son. “This is a sudden decision, Loki. What caused your sudden conviction?”

He hesitated. “Her mother is currently trying to arrange for her to marry Theoric,” Loki said but his mother cut him off before he could say more.

“Do you love her?” Frigga asked, blue eyes sincere as she gazed upon her son. "Or are you attempting to protect your friend?"

“I...yes,” he admitted softly. “I love her.”

Odin and Frigga’s eyes met. The queen nodded to her husband, who then addressed their younger son. “Then you have our blessing to ask for her hand.”

A weight lifted from his heart. “Thank you,” he said. “I—thank you, father, mother.”

Thor, beside him, laughed in joy. “And here I thought no woman could make an honest man of you, brother!” he said loudly, thumping Loki on the back. “I should have guessed it would be dear Sigyn. It’s about time.”

“Go,” Frigga told Loki with a warm, proud smile. “Go and ask Freya for her permission.”

He left quickly, hurrying to where he could find the goddess of love and fertility.

* * *

 

Sigyn was pacing outside the mead hall before the feast was supposed to begin, waiting nervously for Loki. She was unsure what he had planned, but she knew what she hoped.

So caught up was she in her thoughts and worries that she did not see Loki approaching until he pulled her into his arms quickly and pressed his lips to hers. After a moment, her hands settled on his arms and she pressed back against his lips, eagerly returning the gesture.

When their lips separated, he cradled her head in his hands. “Marry me,” he whispered.

The smile that curled her lips was blinding in its radiance. “Yes,” she replied joyfully, drunk off the elation running through her veins.

“I love you,” he murmured to her, breath fanning over her cheek.

She kissed him again, once, sweetly. “As I love you,” she swore to him. “Always.”

Gently, he intertwined their fingers and they went into the hall for the feast. As they sat, ate, and listened while Odin announced their engagement, they held fast to each other.

* * *

 After Sigyn fled from Asgard following her husband’s disappearance, she thought him dead and dared not hope, for fear of her wounded heart being crushed further.

It was her step-daughter who told her that Loki survived.

Several months after she had fled to Midgard, the bell on the door to the coffee shop jingled loudly.

“We’re not open for another half— _Hel._ ” Sigyn stopped abruptly as she glanced up from the counter and saw the young woman at the door.

She smiled slightly. “Hello, Mother.”

Sigyn leapt over the counter and hurried to the newcomer, pulling her into her arms tightly. “Hel,” she whispered into the younger goddess’s hair before pulling back, though she rested her hands on Hel’s shoulders.

“You look well,” she said as she studied her.

Hel was technically her step-daughter, but she regarded her as a daughter. Angrboða had never been much of a maternal figure and so, when Sigyn had married Loki, she had not minded accepting the young Hel as her own blood.

Much of her appearance she had gotten from her father: the same height, the same thin build (though Hel was nearly frail), the same hair. She had fine features and high cheekbones. Her thin black hair hung down in curtains. Unlike many Asgardians, Hel had learned to blend in when traveling to other realms, a habit learned from watching Loki and Sigyn. She wore a simple dress suit and long, loose coat that fluttered about her legs when she walked.

“And you,” Hel replied gently, “You seem…stressed and lonely, Mother.”

Sigyn smiled sadly. “Yes, I am, of course. I miss your father.”

Hel’s eyes were pale, pale grey—just the faintest silver around the iris—and piercing as she stared at her step-mother in consternation. “Sigyn, he’s not dead,” she told her gently.

“ _What_?”

The two women sat down and Hel told her the story, explaining that, as the goddess of the dead, she had not sensed her father’s death. That, after much investigation, she had discovered evidence that implied he had fallen into another realm. While looking for Loki, she had in fact found Sigyn.

“If you need anything at all, Mother,” Hel told her as she stood reluctantly to leave, “Do not hesitate to ask. And...I'm so sorry about—”

Sigyn shook her head sharply, face ashen. "Please...don't. Don't speak of it—to me or anyone else, Hel."

Her step-daughter saw the pain in her eyes and nodded, hugging her tightly. "I shan't say a word, Mother. I swear it."

Two months later, after the failed Chitauri invasion, Sigyn called Hel back to her in the quiet space of her apartment.

She thoughts of hushed, sad conversations between the Avengers in the coffeehouse, of records and files and photos in the depths of the SHIELD database, of the understood pain of losing a beloved friend.

“I need you to do me a favor, daughter mine.”

And so when Agent Phil Coulson was found unconscious on SHIELD’s helicarrier—alive, unwounded, unscarred, with no memories after his last conversation with Director Fury—, no one had any explanation.

Sigyn smiled to the suited man when he came to the Starbucks with the Avengers. He had no idea who she was or what she had to do with his second chance at life, but she was content to watch the Avengers and their handler talk cheerfully in the corner booth.

* * *

 

 "Sup, Gin."

She glanced up from the table she was wiping down. "Not much, Clint. Not much. And for you lot?"

"Busy," he grumbled. "New work assignment."

"Sorry. Well, the usual for you all?"

Natasha nodded beside him in reply to the barista.

Tony turned to grin cheekily at her. "Only two shots today, love," he said in a horrible emulation of her British accent. 

She rolled her eyes. "Coming up."

The group of Avengers—Stark, Bruce, Steve, Natasha, and Clint—settled at the biggest corner booth. 

There were only a couple other customers, in pairs or alone scattered throughout the coffee shop, but they were the loudest despite their hushed tones. Then again, Sigyn had far more advanced hearing than humans. 

"So, Blondie's back?" came Tony's musing tone. "What for? Do they not have shawarma where he's from?"

Steve shook his head. "Business, Tony." The inflection in his first word implied far more than the definition. _Avengers business_ , it said. 

Sigyn's intuition twisted her stomach in warning. 

"What's he want?" Bruce asked curiously. "It's obviously not for a social visit. It has to be important for him to come himself."

They paused as she came to their table and delivered their drinks. "Anything else?"

"Have you just started a new coffee pot?” Clint asked her.

She blinked. “I’m halfway through one at the moment, actually.”

“Well, you might wanna go ahead and start a new pot,” the brown-haired man told her with a faint smile. “We’ve got a friend coming—he’ll easily drink an entire pot if you let him. Just a heads up. Oh, and Coulson’s coming. He’ll want his usual.”

Sigyn’s stomach dropped at the mention of this ‘friend’. “I’ll get right on it,” she promised and retreated to the counter and began making said coffee.

“Whatever it’s about, it’s urgent,” Steve said lowly. “SHIELD’s picking him up from New Mexico where the Bifrost dropped him. Coulson’s bringing him over. He didn’t say much over the phone, but it’s to do with his brother.”

Behind the counter, Sigyn nearly tripped in shock.

 _Loki_.

“Oh, great—is that lunatic returning?” Tony muttered.

“ _My friends!_ ”

An immense man with shoulder-length blond hair and a wide smile stood in the doorway, his booming voice preceding him. He went to the other Avengers’ table with a great grin upon his face. Phil Coulson followed him, grim-faced as he nodded politely to her. Sigyn barely spared him a glance, all her attention focused nervously upon the bigger blond man.

Thor hadn’t changed at all.

* * *

“Congratulations, Brother, Sister!” Thor said with a wide, delighted grin.

Loki’s and her fingers were intertwined. He was in his ceremonial green and gold armor and his smile was genteel when he looked to her. Sigyn was still in an elegant dress fitting for a royal Asgardian bride.

She smiled to her new brother-in-law. “Thank you, Thor.”

The god of thunder laughed. “You are officially my sister now, Sigyn. I don’t think my brother could have chosen a better match for him. You’ll keep him in line.”

Sigyn laughed.

Loki rolled his eyes at his brother. “Yes, thank you for your blessing, Thor,” he said wryly before looking to his wife. “Dance with me?”

“Always,” the newly-crowned Princess of Asgard and goddess of fidelity replied. “Always.”

* * *

 “Thank you, Ginny,” Natasha said as the barista brought a large cup of coffee for Thor. “You can just leave the pot and save yourself the trips back.”

The blond smiled quickly to the spy and nodded, returning to the counter quickly. The Russian studied the barista as she went back to work. Ginny Smith couldn’t have been more than thirty and seemed like a fairly normal young woman. Short and lithe, the barista had light blond hair that had been sliced off neatly, ending just below her chin. But there was always a knowing look to her eyes that made Natasha’s instincts twitch curiously.

 “So, what’s up, Thor?” Tony asked, leaning back in the booth. “Cap mentioned something about your brother.”

The demigod’s cheer diminished. “My brother, yes.”

“Is he going on another daddy-issues induced rampage?” the billionaire asked before Natasha sent him a sharp, silencing look.

“Not quite,” Thor replied sadly. “Not this time.”

“Then what’s up?” Bruce asked.

The blond looked around their table sadly. “It is his wife.”

There was a long moment of incredulous silence.

“Sorry?” Clint shifted in his seat. “I don’t think I heard you right. Did you say _his wife_? That guy’s _married_?”

Tony, meanwhile, pulled out his StarkPhone and began to type hurriedly, curiously.

“It was many, many years ago when my brother and his wife were married,” Thor replied. “He loved her, very much—no matter what people may say about Loki, no one can dispute that. They were happy. She stood by him through many trials and tribulations. Even when he discovered his true ancestry. She mourned him most of all when we thought him dead and Asgard thought him a traitor.”

Bruce gave a hum of thought. “And…what changed? Why is she a problem now?”

“She’s gone,” the god of thunder replied. “Shortly after my brother’s disappearance, she vanished. We could find no trace of her. We…we thought she had tried to join her husband.”

“You thought she had killed herself,” Natasha surmised.

Thor nodded somberly. “Indeed. Loki…he did not know. During the invasion here, he thought her safe in Asgard. When I took him back, he demanded to see her and…we had to explain her disappearance and our conclusion. He did not take it well.”

“No problem, I mean—he’s still in prison, right? He—” Steve stopped. “He hasn’t escaped, has he?”

Thor hesitated.

“Great,” muttered Clint, sitting back in his seat. “Just great.”

“He escaped and began searching for his wife,” Thor continued. “He at first thought that she had been punished in his place.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “In his place?”

The demigod shifted in his seat slightly. “Asgardian justice is different than that here in Midgard. There were…implications in the court that she assisted him when he attempted to usurp control in Asgard. Loki escaped punishment but old laws required some recompense after his crimes.”

“You were going to punish a woman for the crimes of her husband?” Bruce said incredulously.

Thor shook his head. “My father would never do that to his daughter-in-law. She was a Lady of Asgard by right of birth and a princess by her marriage to my brother. She was beloved by the people and nobles alike. We had already lost one member of our family; there was no desire to lose another.

“Loki, however, doubts our father in this. He is nearly certain she was banished or killed for his crimes. He escaped. Heimdall informed me that he saw my brother, after his escape, attempting a spell to discern his wife’s condition. She is alive—but not in Asgard. She is here in Midgard.”

Clint, who had picked up his coffee, paused with the cup midway between his mouth and the table. “She came here seeking asylum. Why here?”

“She was always fond of this realm; it was her favorite to visit.”

“And Loki is coming here to find her,” Natasha said.

Thor nodded and downed the last of the coffee in his cup. “This beverage is marvelous,” he declared.

On cue, Ginny reappeared with a fresh pot of coffee, which she set on the table before them. “I made an extra pot, just in case,” she explained with a smile.

“It is the best I have had in this realm!” Thor declared to her with a wide smile.

The barista blinked at his wording but smiled nevertheless. “Thank you; I’m glad you enjoy it, then.”

She left them again to their privacy.

Bruce leaned back in the booth, face contemplative. “I'm assuming that, if he's coming here to find her, but doesn't...it won't be good. So, if we manage to find her soon, will that prevent Loki from…ah, acting like he did last time he came to—um, Midgard?”

Thor nodded.

“Sigyn.”

The others’ eyes went to Tony, who was reading from phone curiously. “Right? His wife—her name was Sigyn?”

“Indeed,” Thor replied.

“What does she look like?” Natasha asked calmly. “Any distinguishing features?”

"She knew sorcery nearly as well as my brother, so it is possible that she is hiding under an illusion, but she has always been more fond of subtle alterations rather than entire changes." A fond smile came to the Asgardian’s face. “Sigyn is smaller than most Asgardians, easily shorter than you, Lady Natasha. She is not a warrior and does not have the muscle of one. She has always kept her hair very long, even by Asgard standards, though it is always pinned up. I only saw it down once, many eons ago. Blond and fair.”

“Eye color?” asked Bruce.

He paused. “It may be considered blue or grey, I suppose.”

The scientist nodded. “Anything else?”

“She bears scars on her hands, burns from acid. They are faded, for they occurred centuries ago. By now, she may have healed them entirely with magic.” Thor again hesitated. “After Loki fell from Asgard and we assumed his death, Sigyn…was immensely aggrieved.”

“She took it hard,” Tony translated curiously, though his eyes were still reading from his phone.

“Yes,” the prince agreed sadly. “Her health suffered. She grew nearly ill—lost weight and slept poorly. I often found her on the edge of the Bifrost, where Loki was lost, mourning her husband. Soon after his disappearance, she confessed to me that she was with child.”

Steve sat back in his chair, incredulous. “You’re telling me that your sister in law, pregnant and supposedly widowed, fled to another _realm_ because she was afraid for her life?”

The god of thunder nodded grimly. “She only told my parents and me of her child. She feared—even before realizing how much danger she was in of being used for revenge on her dead husband—that the child may be taken from her.”

“Why would she think that?” Bruce asked.

“Spare the time to read up on the stories you know of my people,” Thor advised grimly. “It would not be the first time, you see. Loki and Sigyn…their children have always been cursed with grim fates.”

Natasha cleared her throat. “How far along is she?”

“At this point…the child should be born in no more than a month, I suppose.”

Tony glanced up. “So, we’re looking for a short woman, eight months pregnant, with really long blond hair. Gotcha.” He glanced back to his phone. “So, Sigyn. Besides Loki’s wife, she is the Norse goddess of fidelity, huh?”

A sad smile came to the demigod’s face. “Sigyn is the most loyal in all of Asgard. She has never faltered in her devotion to my brother, even when it contested with her allegiance to Asgard. She has suffered much because of my brother but has never left him nor strayed.”

“I have a question,” began Clint. “If she’s as loyal as you say—and your brother cares for her as much as it sounds like he does—just what will he do if he can’t find her?”

Thor's face grew grim. "Loki...many things may have changed about him since he discovered his true heritage, but his love for Sigyn has never faltered or wilted. If she is dead, he would raze this realm entirely or die in the attempt."

"Well, let's not give him the chance," Steve replied.

* * *

 Loki and Sigyn were happy for many years after their marriage, but being married to the Trickster of Asgard was not easy, even for someone as patient as Sigyn.

Upon the wedding, she had gained not only a husband, but also four children: a daughter and three sons, all very unique. Hel, still a young child, had adored her step-mother and quickly took to calling her ‘Mother’ instead. Sleipnir, not quite a foal any longer but not yet fully grown, had taken to her instantly, playing and frolicking around her cheerfully, with an innocent love in his eyes that endeared him to her instantly.

Soon after, Sigyn bore two sons: Narvi and Vali. They had their father’s black hair but her eyes. The days of their births would forever remain in her heart two of the best days in her long life: for the joy of having a child and bringing him into the world…and for the joy on Loki’s face when he swept into her room to see his weary wife and newborn child. Her heart had felt as if it might burst for all the love she felt within it.

Those joyful days with her sons were numbered from the start.

* * *

 

Sigyn wept.

Her hands ached from the painful burns of the caustic venom. Her arms ached, trembling from the constant effort of upholding the bowl and keeping it balanced.

Most of all, her heart ached as she knelt over Loki, who was chained to the floor of the cave. She tried not to think of what those chains were.

She did not have to be there. When declaring Loki’s punishment, Odin had told her that nothing was required of her. Sigyn decided otherwise.

They’d have her live comfortably in the palace as if nothing was wrong while her husband was chained in a cave, constantly burned by the serpent’s venom, slowly losing his sanity, while their sons were dead.

Time lost meaning in the cave. Her existence became an endless cycle of holding up the bowl to catch the venom until it filled and she was forced to empty it while Loki screamed as the liquid burned him.

Sometimes her hand slipped and it burned her. There was a smattering of white and red scars of various ages on her hands now.

She tried to draw Loki’s crime from the present, in turn telling anecdotes, singing melodies, and asking of him stories of his childhood, legends he knew, and tales he recalled from their visits to Midgard and other realms.

Loki had been Asgard’s most powerful sorcerer; Sigyn was a fair sorceress. She could manage enough magic to get by, but nothing on a grand scale. When Odin had bound her husband, he had bound Loki’s magic as well. Breaking the bonds that chained him was magic far beyond her; it wasn’t simply magic. It was _Odin’s_ magic. But she conserved her energy, her power, and waited.

It took years—not much in the life of an Asgardian, but too long, far too long—for her to save enough power. When she finally broke the bonds, the rebounding release of energy caused Loki to fall unconscious.

She gathered him in her arms and transported them to the outskirts of the city, to her familial home. Her mother Freya was rarely at home, so often away in Vanaheim. That day was no exception; the home was empty.

The goddess of fidelity put her husband to bed, healing the burns he had and easing the pain. He would be unconscious for several hours, surely.

* * *

 

The doors to Asgard’s throne room were thrown open by magic. The wood hitting the stone walls boomed and the noise echoed thunderously in the immense room. All other noise was silenced by the surprise of the entrance.

“Sister?”

Thor’s shocked utterance was the only sound besides the goddess’s footsteps as she strode forward into the room.

Sigyn was in her old, now-stained dress that she had worn in the cave and had not spared to time to change. Her blond hair trailed behind her in the air like a cloak, falling down to her hips. It was the first time in centuries that she had her hair down outside the privacy of her bedchamber.

Odin’s eyebrows rose. “Lady Sigyn.”

“Allfather,” she replied coldly. Her eyes swept over the others in the room—from him to Frigga—who looked to her in awe, astonishment, and reluctant hope—to Thor, who watched in shock, to Sif and the Warriors Three, who all but gaped.

Thor stepped toward her, but her furious gaze stopped him from getting far. “Sigyn…” he instead said. “Is Loki…?”

“ _Dead_?” she spat. “You have _no_ right to be concerned about your brother after you left him there to _rot_!”

Silence rang in the room. Sigyn was a gentle soul—everyone had known of her tolerant, forgiving behavior. This cold fury was unheard of from her and stilled everyone in the hall.

“No,” she said lowly. “He isn’t dead. Ill, injured, emaciated—yes. Currently unconscious and healing. If you care.”

Odin’s one-eyed gaze was fierce but she did not flinch from it. “He broke his bonds?” the Allfather asked furiously.

“ _No_ ,” she snapped. “I did.”

“You dare defy my commands?” Odin growled.

She straightened and squared her shoulders. “ _Yes_. You turned my eldest son into a _monster_ to kill his younger brother. You used his intestines to bind my husband in a cave to be tortured. You left him there, uncaring if he died or lost his sanity. You kill our children—imprison them until the end of days—force them into indentured servitude—as punishment for _his_ actions. You have killed my children. You killed _your own grandchildren_.

“Yes, I did defy you. Allfather, you may claim it is because the Norns say he will start Ragnarok, but _your_ actions will drive him to it! You may be his father, but you have _never_ treated him as your son.”

Frigga stared at her with bated breath and fear for Sigyn in her eyes; Thor was speechless. Odin regarded her with an inscrutable expression.

“I do not know if I should call you stupid or brave,” he said impassively.

She frowned. “Call me whatever you wish, it does not change what you have done.”

Odin studied her. “You still remain faithful to Loki, after all his actions have cost you?”

“He has made many mistakes in his life. He is the agent of chaos and the trickster. Loki is who he is and I love him for that. If I do not stand with my husband,” she replied softly, “No one ever will.”

* * *

 

Loki woke three days later with Sigyn at his side.

When she informed him of her actions, he had expected the next words to fall from her lips would be a punishment the Allfather had given her. Instead, he was told of his freedom.

His wife embraced him in relief; he clung to her, wrapped his arms around her, stroked her hair. As he pressed his lips to her temple, he had never felt so unworthy of her.

* * *

The next month later found SHIELD cleaning up after a fight between the Avengers and Loki in Queens. It came about after Loki had been spotted on a security feed and the team had been sent to apprehend him. They weren’t within fifteen yards of him before the trickster noticed them and began a fierce offensive. Civilians were everywhere, running and screaming in the chaos, and the smoky green of Loki’s magic clouded the air.

Thor had been the only one of them to even get within ten feet away. The Asgardian had tried to calm the enraged sorcerer, but to no avail. “You are the god of lies, Loki!” Clint had heard him yell. “You know I am not lying when I say we did nothing to Sigyn and nor did we plan to. She was not going to be punished in your stead. Halt this madness and we can help you find her!”

His offer was ignored though Loki vanished quickly afterward.

The public was in an uproar and the World Security Council was, in Fury’s words, frothing at the mouth—which made the spy even more determined to catch the rogue Asgardian.

It was only made worse the next day when Thor returned to his room in the ‘Avengers’ Tower (courtesy of Tony Stark) to find a brief note left for him in sharp handwriting.

 _“You may not have threatened her life directly, but she would not have fled in such a fashion if she did not feel her life was in danger. I intend to first find my wife, then discover why she fled and who is to blame. Stay out of my way._ ”

* * *

 

 It took them two weeks to catch him.

Two weeks of running round across the globe, through metropolis and countryside alike, as Loki was spotted in his search. The Avengers and SHIELD were divided in their tasks. Half searching for the Trickster and attempting to stop his madness, the other half to find his wife before he ripped the world apart trying to find her.

They never located her. Instead, they captured Loki. Only then did his wife appear.

As a dozen armed men escorted the captured god to the maximum security detention facility, the Avengers settled in the meeting room.

Bruce was in a spare change of clothes that an agent had loaned him: too large and hanging loosely off him as he retrieved a medical kit to sew up a long slice from debris on Natasha’s arm. Beside her, the archer was scowling at the table, his sprained right arm already in a sling. Tony arrived minutes after the others once his suit had been removed properly and was now dressed in his usual jeans and Black Sabbath shirt, though he was rather bruised all over. Idly, he went over repairs he’d need to do on the suit. Loki’s magic had done a number on the circuitry and the armor itself was scratched and scuffed from all the recent fighting. Across the table, Steve hadn’t bothered yet to change nor see to the cuts on his face.

Only Thor seemed unscathed from the bout with his adopted brother, though his hair was disorderly and his expression troubled.

Fury stormed into the room with his usual stern demeanor with Coulson right behind him.

“So!” Tony said quickly. “We caught Reindeer Games—now what? What’re we going to do with him?”

Coulson gave him a subtly exasperated look over Fury’s shoulder. The director scowled at the genius. “That’s the million dollar question, Stark.”

“I shall take him back to Asgard,” Thor replied calmly. “Where he is secure and out of earth’s reach until we locate my sister.”

Clint snorted. “Because that went _so_ well last time.”

The demigod frowned. “I’ll ensure they will be more thorough this time and we here can focus on finding Sigyn.”

“And what if we don’t?” Fury cut in. “What if Loki’s wife eludes us entirely? What if we never find her?”

Thor shook his head. “No one can hide forever. Sigyn…she came here thinking him dead. If she learns he isn’t—which she surely will through your television and news—then she will go searching for him, especially considering she is with child.”

“He’s been the headline story for _two weeks_ all over the world!” Fury exclaimed angrily. “Why has she not come forward already? Face it, she’s hiding on purpose now and I don’t think any of us _will_ find her.”

An unconvinced frown creased Thor’s face. “I know my sister in law. She loves Loki as no one I have ever known does. She is steadfast to the end and she would never abandon him!” His hand clenched into a fist, vehement in his defense and confirmation of Sigyn’s loyalty.

“And if she doesn’t?” the director nearly yelled. “Why hasn’t she—”

“ _Sir!_ ”

Agent Maria Hill’s voice broke through their argument as she hurried up and addressed Fury. “There’s a hostile aboard, sir. They saw her appear five minutes ago on the security cameras, heading for the detention level.”

"Is it—" Stark didn't finish his question before the director was speaking furiously once more. 

“Five minutes ago?” repeated Fury. “In case you haven’t noticed, Hill—we’re currently thirty thousand feet in the air. How the _hell_ did someone board the helicarrier now?”

She was unfazed by his tone. “We—well, we believe she’s Asgardian.”

“Sigyn,” Thor concluded. “She’s coming for Loki herself.”

The director turned to face the demigod. “And just how _hostile_ is she?” Fury demanded.

“That, Nicholas, depends entirely upon your team and agents’ actions.” They all turned quickly to look at the newcomer.

“Sigyn!” cried Thor.

Fury scowled. “Lady Sigyn, isn’t it?” he said icily.

“Wait— _Ginny_?” blurted Steve.

The blond woman sighed, fatigued. “Indeed. I was surprised you never noticed. But then again, I did learn from the best. Do not, ah, blame yourself for it. No one really pays attention to baristas anyway. No one really looks.”

“Let me get this straight,” Fury said, looking furiously at the Avengers. “All this time, you _knew_   Sigyn. Even when we were searching for her?”

“She worked at the Starbucks near the Tower!” Tony exclaimed. “We went there a lot. I mean—we met Thor there, for God’s sake, but he didn’t recognize her either!”

Thor’s blue eyes swept to Sigyn. “Is this true, sister?”

Her lips tightened. “I used magic to disguise myself from you. I apologize, Thor, but it was…necessary.”

“So you were the friendly neighborhood barista for months,” Tony interrupted. “And you never used magic except that and—what? Making your coffee sinfully good?”

She rolled her eyes. “Illusions aren’t my only skill with magic, Stark,” she sniffed, as if offended at the thought. “Nor do I waste magic on _coffee_.”

“Then what have you been doing these past months?” Bruce asked curiously.

Sigyn raised her eyebrows. “Shame,” she murmured, “I thought you all were brighter than this. The most magical and unexplainable occurrence happens with you lot and you don’t even think about it.”

“Coulson,” Natasha realized.

The goddess inclined her head. “I have special connections.”

Thor looked from the agent to his sister. “You had Hel return him.”

“I thought doing all of you a favor might be useful later,” she sighed. “But now, if this happy revelation is finished, I’m here to see my husband.”

“And you think you can just waltz in here and break out our prisoner, without us trying to stop you?” Fury said sharply.

A near-smirk curled her lips. “Well, your security officers did attempt to apprehend me as I made my way here, but they are currently unconscious in the halls. Quite unharmed, simply unconscious, I promise”

Fury glared as fiercely as a man with one eye could. That is to say, with the same fury as Odin.

“How’d you do that?” Stark asked curiously.

Her eyebrows rose imperiously. “My husband is the god of mischief and Asgard’s most powerful sorcerer, and sorcery is a skill we both share. How little you expect from me.”

The others glanced to each other, unsure of what to say or do, but Sigyn ignored them and turned on her heel to locate her husband.

* * *

 

He didn’t turn when he heard the doors to his cage open. Nothing the so-called heroes had to say could interest him a whit.

“Loki?”

The Liesmith spun sharply and his eyes widened as he took his wife—her tired face, her thin shape, her sleepless eyes.

Sigyn strode to him, embracing him tightly. His wrists were bound together and he could not reciprocate, but he slumped into her arms and his stiff bearing relaxed. She cradled his head in her hands as she pressed her forehead to his. Her grey-blue eyes bore into his green-eyed gaze.

“Oh, my love,” she murmured sorrowfully. “What have they done to you?”

Her trembling thumb traced his lips—lips once sly and clever and quick, now sewn shut once more with shining black cords. Again.

She moved one hand from his face and muttered an incantation, conjuring a knife into her hand.

“Sit,” she bade him gently. “This isn’t going to be pleasant.”

The cords had surely been his punishment from Odin—for attempting to destroy Jotunheim or for invading Midgard, she did not know—but she knew it was by Odin. The cords were enchanted. They wouldn’t be broken by a knife along. Magic had sealed his lips and magic would loosen them. It was the same as the first time the punishment had occurred.

Nearly half an hour after she began weaving spells, removing the stitches and bindings, and healing wounds, she laid aside her bloody handkerchief, one hand still upon his cheek.

“Sigyn,” he murmured tenderly and pulled her forward to kiss her with newly healed lips.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as she responded to his lips with eager passion after so long apart.

It was minutes later that their lips slowed and Loki drew away. Without a word, he laid a hand low upon her stomach and looked to her questioning.

Sorrow flooded her features.

“When they captured me and took me to Asgard,” he began quietly, “Thor informed me that you were with child before you fled.”

The goddess of fidelity trembled slightly and her hands tightened their grip on him. “I was,” she whispered, eyes cast downward. “I was pregnant, alone in Asgard, without you. All of the court thought you a traitor and condemned me by proxy. There were whispers—they wanted the Allfather to punish me in your stead, but none of the family would hear of it. I had only realized that I was with child a week after you had…gone. I had no fear of the Allfather, but I did not trust our child’s safety in the court. I fled to Midgard. But…after arriving and settling, I…” A sob choked her throat. He stroked her hair softly and she continued in a whisper. “I miscarried. No one…no one knew. I had confided in Odin, Frigga, and Thor, no one else. I came to Midgard to protect our children but instead, I lost them.”

Loki met her damp gaze. “Them?”

Her smile was heartbreaking. “Yes. Twins—a boy and a girl, according to a spell.”

The god of mischief pulled his wife to his chest, and rested his chin on her blond head.

It seemed indeed, at that moment, that his children were forever cursed: to inescapable imprisonment, to isolating duties, to undeserving deaths.

And his wife. He’d damned her so many times with his actions.

Even after he’d attempted to kill both Odin and Thor, she’d remained faithful and loving to him, even after his apparent death. She’d fled to another world to protect their children in her womb. She’d fled to Midgard, utterly alone, as a widow.

“I’m so sorry,” Loki whispered into her hair. “I’m…so sorry. For leaving you. For causing all this.”

She kissed him gently, interrupting his apologies. “Don’t. Let us move on. Though…I don’t think we should return to Asgard so soon,” she admitted.

The Liesmith stood and helped his wife up, not releasing her hand.

Abruptly, Sigyn’s eyes grew large in shock. “Oh dear…I forgot something, my love.”

“What?” he asked in concern.

Sigyn cast a nervous glance upward. “I do believe your brother and his…friends just witnessed all of this.”

Her husband gave her a small, secretive smile. “No, I don’t think anyone has been watching the cameras for some time now.”

Sigyn knew that sly smile better than anyone. “What did you do?” she asked in equal parts amusement, curiosity, and exasperation.

“A simple trick,” he explained innocently. “Their technology is so easily manipulated. They likely turned the cameras off shortly after you came in, or stopped watching at the very least.”

“Loki.”

“They may be under the impression that our reunion was…ah, more passionate after you removed the stitches,” he relented with a smirk.

Her laugh echoed in the empty room and halls.

He knew what was soon to follow. He would be released and Sigyn—in all her fondness for Midgard and its populace—would have him swear he meant it no harm any longer. As long as she was with him, well, he could do that happily.

Sigyn’s sorrows still weighed down her shoulders but Loki knew she had already began healing. That was her nature: resilient faith and loyalty, to the end.


End file.
